Wild Court

An international poetry journal based in the English Department of King’s College London

Three poems by Kate Behrens


    Dream Lover


Next to a Spanish river, I tell him
my body is ruined.
Not existing, he doesnʼt mind:
I like your differences.

With metallic water,
time unravels blue streets,
silver mohicans ‒ theyʼre palm trees −
behind them, tall town houses
of the belonging children.

Be careful what you wish for, I say,
unwrapping two bocadillos,
tapping at tunes enveloped
in dream.

The moon picks out flat stones,
brings us to great longing
we are ill-prepared for

since we near the death of all
we had once believed in,
as I kiss
cruel air.



    Anniversary Poem


i.m Sophie Behrens


The thrown-sand sound of rain,
slurred dictator, memory,

needling dark.

Pure feeling was the first born.

As a face appears
clearer than it has,
from imminent proximity

the afterlife of love
wakes us survivors:

each unclear breath
struggles out from buried love.

Hills never listened
to human solutions.

Precision around abstraction ‒
flowers outlive each night.



    Another Old Roué


…That marvellous lure
on which he will always dangle, helpless as a chub

(when focusing down on it, meaning gets confused).

Heʼs spruced himself up without needling boredom,
drums happy tunes on cab-borne knees…

But Loveʼs an ignis fatuus. 

Remembered: cold chutes, then evaporation, as the new him goes, a no-thing 

Time has lapsed. They can be light, mature,
canʼt they? He will be able to choose a stayer or bear

a new wound. Craves the motivation (a slippery
fish, maybe, but hey, doing the dishes).

She will be kind of wondering
where is that person she fell for… the person.